


Alone

by wickwackity



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: I hate myself for doing this to my son, I watched chapter 2 like a week ago and I died, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, my ghost wrote this, non-graphic description of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:03:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickwackity/pseuds/wickwackity
Summary: In which Stan doesn’t make it to adulthood.





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> y’all I’m 
> 
> I’m mad at myself for doing this. 
> 
> me @ my friend: I wish there was more fics about Stanley recovering from his attack :(
> 
> me: OH WAIT IM A WRITER

It’s been two months since Stan and the Losers have defeated Pennywise. They made it out alive, somehow. Not without pain, though. Not without scars.

A month since Mr. Marsh had decided to get the hell out of Derry, leaving behind a hole in their makeshift family that no one else could fill. Stan figures this was when they first started breaking apart. He started noticing little things. How Eddie and Richie always seemed to be around each other. Bill, Ben, and Mike spending hours upon hours in the town library. Stan was left behind.  _ Alone. Always alone. _

Three weeks since the rest of the Losers club finally drifted apart, Stan losing the only people he had ever loved, his support,  _ his rocks. _ Without the people who he had considered family - who had  _ promised _ to never leave him again - he could feel himself spiraling into something not himself, not being able to catch himself when he started drowning in pain and depression.

Two weeks since Stan had heard that Richie and Eddie had finally gotten together. He was happy for them, honestly he was. But he couldn’t help the way his breath caught in his throat when he saw them walking down the hallways, holding hands. _ They don’t even acknowledge me anymore _ . Longing to have his friends back, his family.  _ Just a stupid pipe dream. _

A week since Stan had stopped sleeping. The nightmares won’t go away,  _ keep getting worse. _ He sees himself getting attacked, feeling the pain like it was happening for the first time, over and over and over again, until he wakes up screaming in a cold sweat. He’d tug roughly at his curls until it felt like his head was on fire, sometimes even managing to pull clumps of it out. It hurt, but it felt  _ good _ . Distracted him from the horrors he couldn’t seem to escape from. 

Four days since Stan had started pulling out his hair constantly. He could tell his normally thick, lush hair, was now brittle and thin. God,  _ when was the last time he took a shower? _ Lately any movement was too much. He felt glued to his bed. More often than not forgetting to eat, forgetting everything. But not his friends. Never them. He couldn’t forget them if he tried.  _ And yet, they seemed to forget about him. Leaving him alone.  _

_ Alone. _

_ Always alone. _

Three days since he gets the idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It’s such a simple solution. An easy fix.  _ I’ll be free soon,  _ he thinks. 

Two hours since he had called the losers. One by one. Did they care? He didn’t know. But he said his goodbyes, he was free from that now. 

An hour since he started. He felt weightless, _ free _ . Free from the pain, free from the blackness that had been consuming him. But at the same time, he felt heavy. Stan figures it’s from the blood loss. He can barely move his arms from where they’re sitting on the edge of the tub. They weigh a million pounds, and Stan’s too weak,  _ always too weak. _

It’s a funny thing, bleeding out. Because he could swear that he saw Bill and Richie standing at the door.  _ Just an illusion,  _ he thinks,  _ they left me. They don’t care anymore.  _ He could feel them getting closer, looking for something to stop the bleeding. 

Stan had thrown out all the medical supplies earlier. Just in case. 

He could feel their growing panic when they don’t find anything. He rolled his head to this side to get a better look, and thinks he can hear Bill frantically telling Richie to call an ambulance. Stan tried to tell them to stop, this is what he wants. Has been wanting for a while. But his lips feel too heavy to move, and nothing comes out. 

Thirty minutes, twenty-three seconds since the ambulance arrived at the Uris house. Bill hadn’t let go of his hand - which he had grasped tightly when they got him out of the tub - and it would be endearing, Stan thinks, if he could feel it. He had lost feeling in his hands a while ago.  _ Probably from the blood loss _ . Bill hops on the ambulance with Stan, which Stan doesn’t believe is aloud, but the EMTs don’t say anything.

The nurses kept telling him to keep his eyes open, look into this light, squeeze Bill’s hand, anything to stay awake.  _ But I’m tired _ , he yearned to say.  _ Just let me sleep for a little while.  _

He can hear the constant beeping start to grow slower. 

He’s  _ exhausted. _

So tired. 

All the sounds are faint, now. Like there is a thick wall between Stan and the others, muffling everything. Through hooded eyes, he can make out the expressions on their faces. 

Sadness. 

Stan doesn’t quite know what they’re sad about. This was what he wanted. He’s free, now. Why can’t they see that?

Blackness starts to flood his vision. He blinks slowly. 

Once.

Twice.

Each movement taking all the strength he has. The pull on his eyelids to close is getting harder to resist. 

With blurry eyes, he can see a figure leaning down to his face.  _ Bill _ . 

He leans in close to Stan’s ear, making sure whatever he had to say stayed between them. 

As he felt himself slipping away, he could hear the unmistakable voice of Bill. 

_ “I love you.”  _

With whatever strength he had left, he managed to smile. 

As his eyes finally drifted to a close, and his breathing slowed even more, Stan hopes that Bill understood what he was trying to say. 

Because Stanley Uris has always been alone, but no matter what had happened, he could never forget Bill. 

  
  
  
  
  


It’s been four minutes, thirty-six seconds since Stanley Uris has died. A soft smile still on his face, and a tight hand gripping his own.

_ Not alone.  _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m iffy about the ending, as I pretty much always am :’) 
> 
> I wasn’t 100% sure how I wanted the last few sentences to go so I feel like they could have been better :/
> 
> buT ANYWAYS! Hope you “enjoyed” 
> 
> im sorry for hurting you all


End file.
